


A Rite of Passage

by TheStageManager



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: CLONES!, Jedi Finn (Star Wars), M/M, That's Not How The Force Works, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23507047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStageManager/pseuds/TheStageManager
Summary: After achieving the rank of Jedi Knight, the Force calls to Finn. Clone Troopers of old confront the ex-Stormtrooper to impart a message.I really just wanted an excuse to have Finn hang out with the Clones from 501st and 212th.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn/Rey
Comments: 10
Kudos: 125





	A Rite of Passage

“And just where are you going?” Poe demanded, catching Finn by the arm. Finn grit his teeth in frustration. Of all the times he wanted to get harassed by Poe, now wasn’t one of them. His feelings of irritation were (partially) dissuaded when he saw BB-8 rolling up beside Poe’s leg. The little droid chirped excitedly and gave Finn a gentle bump in the calf.

“Good to see you, too, buddy, and thanks,” Finn praised the droid. Then, he lifted his head with pride and met Poe’s smirk with a smirk of his own. “Off to meditate, just for a little while,” he said, trying to sound humble, though his posture said otherwise. He practically burned with pride.

Poe sputtered, his shoulders dropping as he twisted his head to the side, eyes screwed closed expressively. “ _Meditate_?!” he cried. “ _Now_? You’re going to meditate right _now_?” he demanded.

Finn scowled. “Yeah? So what if I am, Dameron?” he demanded right back, puffing out his chest like a 12-year-old preparing for his first fist fight. Then, the smirk returned and he asked, “Are you going to try to stop me?” His hand ghosting over the lightsaber on his belt, an unspoken warning that he wasn’t afraid of a little extra sparring. It was a long-running joke between the two of them, a nonverbal equivalent of: ‘Come fight me, bro.’

Finn watched as Poe picked up on the game and raised his hands in the air amicably. “Now, Finn, please. Do I look like somebody with a death wish? I know better than to pick a fight with a _Jedi_ ,” he teased and Finn’s face flushed. The ex-Stormtrooper opened his mouth to speak but Poe cut him off. “Congratulations, by the way. First of the new batch,” he said, pointing to the freshly severed Padawan braid in Finn’s hand. “Apparently- well, according to Rey and those old books, its tradition to give it to somebody _special._ So, Finn, have anybody _special_ in mind?” Poe teased.

Finn felt his dark cheeks flush once more and he hunched his shoulders defensively. “Maybe I do,” he hissed. “But that isn’t any of your business. Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Like, I don’t know, harassing that poor Twi’lek woman down at the bazaar?” Finn demanded, suddenly feeling himself grow restless. There was a note of jealously in his tone, an emotion he was quick to recognize and release into the Force. He knew where he stood with Poe, there was no need for jealousy.

“Nah,” Poe said, shrugging sheepishly, averting his eyes. “She, uh- well, I’m banned from the bazaar,”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Can’t imagine why,” he grumbled, though a smile tipped at the corner of his lips, an indication that all was forgiven. But, knowing that Poe was never one for subtly (and wanting to make sure the point of forgiveness was made clear) he stepped forward and bumped the back of his hands against Poe’s. Then Poe, clearing his throat and smirking, had the absolute _audacity_ to wrap his pinkie around Finn’s. 

“Alright, alright. You go and do your ‘meditating’ or whatever. But be back before dinner! We’ve all put together something special, a real celebration!” Poe exclaimed, giving the Jedi’s pinkie a squeeze before releasing it, and Finn felt his heart warm and he turned away to continue along his path.   
  


  
***

Finn made his was down a well-worn path through the forest, across a stream, and up a steep hill, until he reached the mouth of a particularly uninteresting cave. Finn had always found the dark, musty cave uninviting, particularly for meditation, though several of the other Padawans favored it for its ‘tranquil aura’. Then again, Finn, with his deep connection to the Living Force, often preferred meditating in the woods or near the stream, somewhere open and _alive._ He supposed he could understand the appeal of the cave (from a certain point of view) and he couldn’t deny, he’d heard the cave calling to him many times, in the past. However, the call often went unanswered because… honestly, it was a dank, dirty cave that was likely home to an ungodly number of spiders, and Finn, raised in pristine, First Order environments, had never been a fan of things that were dank or dirty. Or covered in spiders. Especially spiders. He really hated spiders.

But now, with his Trials behind him, the call was too strong to ignore. So, Finn settled on the ground and crossed his legs grumbling a quiet, “Alright, alright, hold on!” to the Force as he felt it jostle against him impatiently. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the distant dripping of water from stalactites, before popping one eye open and pointing an accusatory (mostly joking) finger at the void. “And keep the spiders away!” he hissed.

Meditation had never been one of Finn’s favorite activities. He was too restless for it (though certainly not as restless as Poe had been, the one time he’d joined in on a lesson) and preferred lightsaber drills. However, the meditative trance came easily to him, so much so, that as soon as he closed his eyes, he was lost in the Force. He felt himself drifting, aimlessly, through the currents of the Force. Feeling himself drawn towards one particular channel, he instinctive pressed forward until the Force grew powerful and the impulse to open his eyes became overwhelming. Inhaling sharply, his eyes snapped open and he- he was… still in the cave?

Finn huffed in frustration, clearly irritated that he’d broken out of his trance before he’d gotten to… whatever it was the Force wanted to show him. Oh well, he supposed. The light was no longer pouring in through the cave’s mouth. Evening had fallen. How long had he been meditating for? Rising up, he moved to leave (Poe was going to be pissed if it was as late as the darkness seemed to indicate) but he stopped at the cave’s entrance, eyes wide.

Where there had been fields and forests before, now there was a dark, storming ocean, beaten by furious waves as lightening cracked overhead. Somewhere off in the distance, he could see smooth, round, flat buildings—shaped almost like river rocks—rising up from the ocean. Save for a lonely little beach at the base of the hill, the thunderous horizon was completely devoid of land.

“Kriff!” Finn cursed, startled, his breath catching in his throat. This was a vision, it had to be! The Force was strong, calling him, beckoning him towards the waves. Carefully, enthralled, he climbed down the hillside along the familiar, worn path. Below him was the beach, and standing on the beach stood a dozen men he didn’t recognize. The climb down was effortless. Finn felt as if he’d blinked at the top of the hill, and suddenly he was standing on the seashore, his boot sinking into the wet sand. The strange men had their backs to him, each wearing rough, brown cloaks and soft, white robes.

“Hey!” Finn called and had to resist the urge to wave his arms. “Hey, who are you? Why did you bring me here?”

The strange men turned, there were dozens of them, and Finn was startled to see that they all wore the same face. In the Force, they had each felt so unique, and Finn was caught completely off guard by their physical likeness. They were differentiated only by features that birth could not provide: tattoos, scars, haircuts, piercings—all symbols of individuality, marks of a life hard-lived. Worse still, with the next flash of lightning, Finn realized that the robes beneath the scratchy brown cloaks weren’t robes at all: the men were wearing armor, white in color, though each man had unique features and stripes in either blue or gold. It was terribly familiar armor and Finn expected to feel uncomfortable at the sight of such a poigniant reminder of his time as a Stormtrooper. These men, however, bore no resemblance to those with whom he served under the First Order. They were lively, free-spirited, unafraid, bold, brave, they carried with them the aura of _heroes._

One of the men stepped forward. His hair was cut in a neat military style, his armor adorned with shining gold stripes. He had a scar on one side of his face, outlining his left eye. He extended a hand. “Finn,” he began, his voice powerful and thick with an accent Finn didn’t recognize. “We’ve been waiting for you for a long time,”

“Have you?” Finn asked, sounding _almost_ sheepish as he took the man’s hand. The cave had been calling to him for a long time. He felt a little guilty for ignoring the prompting for so long, all for the dislike of spiders.

Behind the first, another man snorted. This man wore blue striped armor. He had the same haircut, but with an added goatee and the number 5 tattooed on his right temple. “Yeah, we were starting to think you’d never show up!” he exclaimed, teasing with a tone that reminded Finn of Poe, and crossed his arms.

Beside him, a man with a blue handprint on his chest piped up, “We’ve been calling to you for quite some time,”

Finn, feeding off of both men’s playful, cavalier attitude, found himself growing bold or, perhaps, comfortable with these strangers. There was a familiarity blooming in his chest, a feeling of belonging or brotherhood stronger than anything he’d felt before. “And who are you?” he asked.

“We’re _vode_.” The answer came from a man in gold stripes, the decal of some Twi’lek kid stenciled in on his shoulder. He was shaved bald, save a little goatee on his chin, and his eyes held regret for a deed Finn felt he could never fully comprehend.

“Brothers,” came the translation from another man in gold. This man had a thick moustache and a cold face, hardened by years of loss and war.

A man in blue stepped forward, seemingly shifting between two stages: that of a bald, old man with a thick grey beard, and that of a young man, with shaved blond hair. “You were a Stormtrooper,” he said and Finn’s eyes widened with realization.

“You’re clones. Clone troopers, that’s who you are!” he exclaimed and the man with the tattoo laughed.

“What gave it away?” he asked.

“We served with the 501st and the 212th,” the hand-printed clone said.

“Vader’s legion,” Finn identified.

One of the gold men, the one with the scar, lifted his head. “We served with Generals Skywalker and Kenobi. Any servitude we had under the Empire was against out will,” there was pain in his expression, deep pain, regret for obeying an order that began a genocide.

The man with the shifting face—with the short blond hair—reached out to the man in gold and comforted him. “We served the Jedi,” he said. “And you, a trooper, have received your rightful rank as Knight,”

The scarred, gold one seemed to have composed himself. “Years and years ago, when Clone troopers became obsolete, I trained many of the natural-borns who came in to take our place in the Order. I taught them things I learned from Jango Fett, things I learned from experience in the front lines, thing I learned from the Jedi I served and loved. We did horrible things under the Empire. My teachings were used to enslave races under the reign of the Emperor,”

“And now, you will take these teachings and use them to help others, to serve the Jedi and the Force, to bring balance to the universe,” Another man spoke up. He wore blue, his hair was long and done up in a tight bun, and a single tear was tattooed under his eye.

“You may not be our brother by blood, but we would be honored to call you _vod_ ,” This man was only in a standard white uniform, and he bore no unique identifications—he must’ve died before he had gotten the chance. Beside him stood an older looking clone, short and twisted, his back hunched sharply.

“You’ve brought us great honor,” the hunched back one said and bowed his head.

Then each of the clones reached forward and, one by one, took Finn by the hand, calling him, “ _Vod._ ”

And just as quickly as it had begun, the vision ended.

Finn’s eyes snapped open and he inhaled sharply. The cave was still dark and dank and dirt. Light filtered in from outside. Hopefully, he hadn’t missed Poe’s dinner. He rose to his feet and swayed slightly as the blood rushed to his head. He moved towards the mouth of the cave and stepped into the light, resolved to do two things:

  1. Find his old stormtrooper helmet. He was going to paint it gold and blue. It was a symbol of something else now, and he had no reason to fear his past or his future.
  2. He needed to find Poe. He had a padawan braid to give away.




End file.
